Recently I walked down Lyme Street in the early evening.  Spring is just beginning, and the first peepers had started to call from the Lieutenant River.  The sky was spellbinding a shade of blue so dark and clear it made me look up for a long time, until the moon rose.  Some of Old Lyme's graceful houses and galleries had their lights on, glowing warmly from within.  

I passed the Cooley Gallery, my favorite art gallery in the world.  Many years ago Jeff introduced me to the work of Linden Frederick, an artist whose paintings, mostly nocturnes, are as luminous as a clear night's sky in early spring.  Each tells a story.  The gallery also shows Maureen McCabe, my former art professor at Connecticut College, an artist whose intricate collages weave together magic, symbolism, Irish legends, French history, fortune-telling, standing stones, and much more.  Each December the gallery holds the beloved All Paintings Great and Small exhibit, incorporating deliciously small works by many of its artists.  I never miss it.

Stars had just started to appear, and I tried to capture a photo of them with my iPhone.  You can see them just above the old church.  It's a private house now, but once it was Christ the King.  My parents were married there and both their funerals, separated by years, were held there. When i walk past, i silently thank the building for being the keeper of timeless joy and sorrow.

I took another recent walk on a rainy day.  Lyme Street is as beautiful in daytime, all through the year, in any weather.  It's April, so I visited the daffodil field.  In full bloom behind its classic wrought iron fence, I stopped to look, to feel the essence of spring in Old Lyme.  There was something all-the-more enchanting, seeing it on a gray day, with mist falling and scraps of fog blowing in from the river.  Standing there, it took me back in time, made me forget the year, the century, let me feel the beauty and history of this place where I'm lucky enough to live.